Chapter 6: Strange New Things Spark the Children’s Curiosity

Lady Song wasn’t used to it at first. Compared to the damp climate of Jiangnan, Qizhou was far too dry. In the beginning, she would even get nosebleeds, but eventually she got better.

But now, Song Yeqing felt as though even breathing had become stifling—dry and parched.

After glancing outside, she checked on the two children in the main room before returning to the kitchen. She added shredded ginger and minced meat into the porridge, then covered the pot with a lid.

After letting it boil for about a minute, she added finely shredded vegetables and stirred it in. Only salt was added—just like that, the porridge was done.

She also used the induction cooker to steam some eggs for ten minutes. By the time the eggs were ready, the porridge had cooled a little.

Once she set the bowls and chopsticks neatly on the table, she packed the generator and induction cooker back into storage. Only then did she go and bring the two children over to eat.

“Wow, Mom, it smells so good!”

Of course it smelled good—the rice, vegetables, meat, and fruits from her spatial storage all came from the Song family farm and were highly sought after in the mystical world. While they didn’t extend lifespan, they were excellent for improving health and vitality.

Song Yeqing held the younger child in her arms while the elder one rushed over to sit obediently at the table.

After all, he was still just a three-year-old. He didn’t question or notice anything out of place. Or maybe it had been so long since he had eaten a proper meal that he didn’t have the energy to be curious.

“Mom, I wish we could eat this every day,” he mumbled through mouthfuls of food. “There’s so much egg today too… Mmm, so yummy!”

At over three years old, the child already had decent language skills, and his words clearly expressed his amazement and delight.

While quickly eating her own porridge, Song Yeqing kept an eye on Song Chengsi, who had only recently learned to feed himself. She could only manage a few short “mm-hm” replies.

She couldn’t help it—this body of hers desperately needed that bowl of porridge.

As for being called “Mom,” she habitually ignored it. After all, it was only the first day—some tolerance was needed.

By the time they finished breakfast and cleaned up, it was already 8:30 a.m. That’s when she realized they hadn’t even washed up before eating.

Song Yeqing’s face remained cold and expressionless, but in her heart, she was scrolling through bullet comments: “Nothing is more important than food!” She grabbed the clean water left over from steaming the eggs and took the two little ones to wash up.

She didn’t know when it started, but she had become quieter and colder over time—only ever scrolling through internal commentary.

Maybe it started when her father passed away, and her mother remarried, leaving her alone in the old house?

Still, Song Yeqing never blamed her.

Her mother was just an ordinary woman. Without her father’s protection, she had no choice but to return to the absolutely safe ancestral home. But that place, isolated from the world, was something her mother couldn’t get used to.

Back then, at just nine years old, she couldn’t protect her mother, and her mother couldn’t take away a child who was fated to become a Celestial Master.

Maybe it was also because, after giving birth to a half-brother, her mother started meeting with her less and less?

Each time she visited, hoping to see her brother, her mother would subtly express concern for the boy’s safety. That’s when she understood—her mother didn’t want her too close to her brother.

Being a relative of a Celestial Master was dangerous. Vengeful ghosts unable to take revenge on the master would target their loved ones instead.

That’s why most people in the mystical world chose partners who were also Celestial Masters—to protect their families.

Celestial Masters with ordinary family members would often set up protective formations and give out talismans and charms—but these were never foolproof.

She remembered clearly: her mother had once been attacked by a vengeful spirit. Fortunately, her father had returned in time, avoiding a tragedy. Even so, her mother fell seriously ill afterward.

Sometimes, Song Yeqing wondered if her mother had long grown tired and fearful of such a life.

That would explain why she remarried a regular man just six months after her father’s death, and only saw her once a year, fearing she might bring misfortune to their new family.

That new life may not have been as rich and luxurious as the Song family’s, but it was safe. Peaceful.

As for that half-brother… She couldn’t help but feel jealousy and resentment, especially after he turned five and ruined two of her meetings with their mother.

That boy was a certified little menace. Both times, he threw tantrums and rolled around in public, causing such a commotion that their mother could only stay with her for half a day at most.

The mystical world had a clear rule: unless one’s life was in danger, Celestial Masters couldn’t act against ordinary people.

Even if it was just an older sister disciplining her brother—technically not “acting against” anyone—he wasn’t a member of the Song family.

The Song family’s methods for dealing with unruly children were not exactly gentle. But with this brother, she couldn’t hit or scold him—only endure it in silence. Perhaps they were just born incompatible.

Because of all this, she had grown increasingly wary of children over the years. She was honestly afraid.

It wasn’t scary to deal with a brat—it was scarier when you couldn’t discipline them.

After washing their faces and struggling to brush their teeth, she looked at the two little ones standing obediently and felt her mood lighten.

As long as you’re not brats, my patience is quite impressive, okay?

Once she had finished washing up herself, she discreetly returned the toothpaste, toothbrushes, and towels to her spatial storage while the kids weren’t looking.

“Let’s go, my two little mushrooms.”

The toothbrushes they used were spares she had brought with her—they were a bit big, but the bristles were soft. The ones available here were made of pig bristles and far too rough.

Back in the room, while the children were distracted, she took out some skincare products and began applying them.

Her skin was healthy, and she was only nineteen, so she used basic, natural skincare products—mild enough even for children.

Still, just to be safe, she only applied a moisturizing cream to their faces. Winter was approaching, and dry, cracked cheeks could be painful.

Lady Song hadn’t used face cream in nearly half a year.

“Smells nice,” the older child sniffed his hand curiously, grinning brightly.

“Smells nice…” the younger one mimicked his brother, sniffing his own hand as well.

She took out a comb, tidied her hair, and tied it up according to her memory. With no hair accessories left, she secured it with a hair tie and wrapped it in a piece of cloth.

The hairstyle was simple enough—Song Yeqing got it right on her first try.

But… life for ancient women really wasn’t easy. Her freshly combed hair reached her waist—genuine waist-length hair.

Fortunately, cutting hair wasn’t forbidden in ancient times. It just couldn’t be done casually. You had to consult the almanac and choose an auspicious day.

The Song family had a vast library, including ancient texts—so she knew this detail.

“Mom, you’re different.”

“What?” Song Yeqing turned to look at the older child.

No way… had a three-year-old already figured out she had transmigrated?

“You’re a little different today. Mom’s not smiling.”

He Chengze didn’t know exactly what was different, but he could still sense something.

The delicious food, the strange bubbles in his mouth, the sweet-smelling cream, even his mother—she all felt a little different.

They say you can see a person’s future from their behavior at age three—this child was clearly sharp.

So it was because she hadn’t smiled at them…

Though Lady Song had grown increasingly anxious over the years, she had never shown it in front of the children. That’s why the older child could tell something was off.

In the end, relying on muscle memory, Song Yeqing managed to force a smile.

Hopefully it wasn’t too stiff, she thought.

Thankfully, the topic was dropped, and the boy didn’t press the issue.

Song Yeqing checked her own pulse and discovered that her body had suffered energy loss from childbirth, along with some malnutrition.

Still, her foundation was solid. Though she’d been weakened over the years, it wouldn’t take long to recover.

And of course, recovery meant medicinal food.

She decided to make yam and goji berry porridge for lunch. She couldn’t nourish her body too heavily all at once—better to restore her stomach for a few days before moving on to dry rice and stir-fried dishes.

Ginseng and angelica root—those potent tonics—were definitely off the table for now.

Since her body had no major problems, it meant she hadn’t taken over the body after Lady Song’s death. That was a serious issue. Seizing a living person’s body while their fate wasn’t finished was no trivial matter.

She needed to figure out what had happened, fast.

Even if this had been a soul swap, and Lady Song ended up in her world, she wouldn’t stand a chance against the millennia-old vengeful ghosts there.

Not to mention, without self-defense abilities, the blood and energy of a Celestial Master were like premium nourishment to such ghosts. Whether her body could even survive was still a question mark.

Author’s note: The author doesn’t have children, so I had to research things like how much a three-year-old or an eighteen-month-old can talk, or whether they can brush their teeth yet.

(End of Chapter)